


The Changing Room

by Deviant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: D/s, Discipline, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Humiliation, Kink, Light BDSM, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deviant/pseuds/Deviant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia brings Stiles along on a shopping trip.  Really, all she asks is that he help carry a few items, but when he can't even do that she ends up using the opportunity to teach him a thing or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Changing Room

**Author's Note:**

> Established relationship, femdom, BDSM, D/s. Humiliation, semi-public scene, discipline. Ended up a lot lighter than I thought it would, no heavy S&M or pain. Mentions: ass eating, cum eating, and anal sex/pegging.  
> I feel like I should put something here about how sex in public can be really wrong if some innocent bystander sees. Like, what if a kid saw? Thank god this is fiction, :P

“I mean is this what my life is going to be? You know? Five, ten years from now am I just going to be Stiles- sidekick to werewolves and human hands when needed?”

Lydia sighed. Now that Stiles had survived three supernatural disasters and near-death experiences he was starting to think that he was going to live long enough to have a future outside of high school and Beacon Hills. Lydia pulled a dark purple skirt from the rack and ran her hands over the material. If she matched it with a simple blouse, and killer heels it would look pretty good. “Isn't there a career fair next week that you could go to?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and his shoulders fell a little. “Can I even have a normal career? Am I, I don't know, ethically obligated to do werewolf stuff for the rest of my life?”

Lydia held the skirt out to her side and waited for Stiles to take it from her. She circled the rack and then moved on. As far as she was concerned she was going to go to the college of her choice, and then probably the grad school of her choice, and then... something. Oooh, a sheer scoop neck in cream.

“Are you even listening to me?” Stiles whined.

Lydia smiled, annoyed. She spun on the heels of her fuck-me pumps to face Stiles. She took in his tousled hair and shifting eyes, his lips pouting slightly. He looked cute, but she would sooner give up heels for a month than tell him that. With a blue plaid cotton button-up over a white tee-shirt, and dark jeans he didn't look bad, but he wasn't exactly dressed to impress. “No, not really.”

“Then why'd you bring me here?” Stiles asked.

Lydia arched her eyebrows. “Duh, so you could carry my purse,” she then muttered under her breath, “which you are now dragging on the floor...” Stiles quickly pulled up her purse and put it firmly over his shoulder, juggling clothes upon clothes. Lydia pursed her lips slightly, “now the sleeve of the ruched dress is dragging...”

Stiles grimaced and adjusted the clothes in his hands so that he could be sure nothing was dragging.

Lydia took a few slow steps towards him and then leaned in to kiss him quickly, her lips engulfing his roughly before pulling away. “Maybe you need a lesson in how to carry my things properly?”

She spun around on her heel and walked towards the changing rooms. The rooms were unattended with most patrons just helping themselves and so Lydia walked down the row of doors until she got to the last one. She could hear Stiles behind her, nervously tripping. The changing rooms towards the end were all deserted though, and there was no one around to see or hear her lead him into the room.

Stiles bit his lip and leaned back against a wall so as to take up as little room as possible. He watched as Lydia pulled items from his arms and hung them on the row of hooks. There was a bench against the back wall, a mirror on the door, and while Lydia was hanging the clothes on the hooks on the side walls there were also hooks against the back wall. He tried to reign in his body, but from the velvet black pumps Lydia was sporting to her short navy dress and the promise of sex it was hard not to react. He swallowed.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean what if someone overhears? Someone could definitely overhear us,” Stiles said. 

Lydia ignored him. “Is being asked to hold my purse too much for you?”

Stiles shook his head, instantly recognizing the shift in Lydia's demeanor. 

The corner of Lydia's mouth quirked up and she tucked her chin in a not so innocent smile. She used a hand to pull her long, red hair over one shoulder. “It's not a lot to ask you to just hold my purse and carry a few items for me while I shop. It’s really such a small task to ask of you, and yet you slack off. You drag my purse, and trip on the clothes I’ve picked out. Either you lack the motivation to do it well, or you need a refresher course.” Lydia watched Stiles nod slightly, although she figured the nod was an attempt to placate her rather than an admittance of his failure. She thought about the material she had at her disposal and how to best… motivate him.

“Drop your pants and your underwear to your ankles. Remove your shirts, fold them, and place them on one end of the bench. Sit on the bench.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Stiles moved quite quickly. If he had any hesitation about the somewhat public environment, it was overridden by a desire to be dominated. Some dommes would be flattered and think that the swift movement was out of a desire to please, not Lydia though. Obviously she knew Stiles wanted to please her, but she also knew that he enjoyed it just as much as she did. This wasn’t exactly a hardship on him.

Oh yes, he was enjoying himself if the hardening dick in front of her was any indication.

Lydia watched him silently. It was a fun way to unnerve him, but she was also listening for the sound of other shoppers. So far nothing.

“For the remainder of our time in here, you do not have to say ‘yes, ma’am,’ ‘no, ma’am.’ In fact, be quiet unless asked a direct question or invited to speak.” Lydia paused, and Stiles nodded his head to show that he understood. 

“If you need me to slow down, you will say what?” Lydia asked.

Stiles hesitated, but answered “yellow.”

“If you need me to stop, you will say what?”

“Red.”

Lydia smiled. She turned away from him and towards the clothes she had picked out. She had to try them eventually, now was a fine time. She turned so that her back was to Stiles, but she could still catch glimpses of him in the mirror. She pulled her hair over one shoulder, and then reached behind herself to unzip her navy blue dress. Thank god she was flexible, she enjoyed being able to unzip the dress with ease, as if to show that she was completely self reliant and didn’t even need Stiles to help with her zipper.

The clothes all looked good, but that was to be expected. Lydia never picked anything that was less than good. A few were excellent, like the cream blouse. She almost forgot about Stiles once she had it on. She couldn’t keep from rubbing her hands over the fabric, and adjusting her breasts for maximum sex appeal. It was definitely going in her collection.

She bent over to see how much the neckline would gape, and smiled when she caught sight of Stiles in the mirror. His eyes fixed on her ass which was clad in the black lace that she loved so much. She wondered what the view was like. Could he see her pussy lips pressed against the fabric? His dick was hard, long, and trying its best to reach his navel. His knuckles were white from the force of holding on to the bench, and she was proud of him for not touching himself even though she hadn’t forbidden it. She straightened and took off the blouse, happy to stand there in just the black lace of her bra and panties, and her heels.

As she took the few steps towards him she made certain to step slowly, one foot in front of the other, so as to sway her hips and draw attention to her smooth legs. As she bent over Stiles and leaned towards his face she made eye contact, yet her hand reached to her purse.

“Move your ass closer to the edge of the bench, and spread your knees.”

Stiles nodded and did as he was told. His skin had stuck to the wood of the bench so he grimaced slightly as he shifted his hips, but as he finished an eager sort of look took over his face, and he met Lydia’s gaze.

Lydia straightened. She reached into her purse and pulled out her black eyeliner. “Open your mouth.”

“Lydi-“

In one swift movement Lydia grabbed Stiles’ jaw, allowing her manicured nails to dig in ever so slightly. “If you need to speak, or end the session, you will hold up three fingers like you’ve done before, in past sessions. Do you understand?”

Stiles nodded.

“Show me.”

Stiles demonstrated.

“Do you have anything you need to say?”

Stiles shook his head no.

“Open your mouth.”

This time Stiles did, and was rewarded with Lydia’s purse being pushed into his mouth. He bit down, realizing that he was expected to hold the purse (which was sort of perfect punishment really). The strap was too long, and the purse would have dangled had he been holding it by the strap, so instead he held it by the top, where the bag opened.

“Do you know what I think of you?” Lydia’s voice was quiet, discreet, but clear.

Stiles shook his head no. His eyes snapped to Lydia’s hands as she reached for his folded up shirts. She placed them on the floor between his knees, and he was forced to shift his feet back so that his pants were out of the way. This position was uncomfortable, his feet tucked far beneath him, the edge of the bench digging into his ass cheeks, and his torso hunched over slightly to make sure that he was holding the purse properly (and not just letting it weakly rest on his chest). He wasn’t sure how long he could maintain the position, and he wondered if that was part of the point.

His dick jumped as Lydia lowered to her knees in front of him. Pieces were starting to fit together. The folded shirts protected her knees from the floor. She was so smart, so perfect, so clever. Stiles groaned at the wonder of her, feeling so lucky to be under her… power.

Lydia didn’t admonish him for groaning. She attributed it to how close her breasts were to his cock, and she smiled slightly. If the situation were reversed, she might make the same slip. She uncapped the eyeliner and looked up Stiles pale torso, her eyes lingering on the line of three moles on his ribs. 

“I think you’re a brat,” she said, and as she said it she leaned forward and wrote B-R-A-T in big letters across his stomach. Stiles tried to keep still, but his stomach muscles flexed and he looked down at the letters with wide eyes. He felt small, like he was just a child in her eyes.

“I think you’re a fool.” The insult was flat though, they both knew Stiles was smart, but he supposed ‘eccentric’ was too long of a word, and ‘hyperactive’ wasn’t sexy. It didn’t matter, pretty soon he was staring down at F-O-O-L written under his right nipple.

“I think you’re a slut.” Her breasts brushed against as she leaned forward to write S-L-U-T above his left nipple. He whimpered slightly.

“You’re a kinky little shit.” F-R-E-A-K tattooed near his hip bone.

“Following me around for years, so eager to eat my asshole.” A-S-S E-A-T-E-R.

“You’ll eat your own cum if I tell you to.” C-U-M E-A-T-E-R.

“Anal slut.” A-N-A-L S-L-U-T.

As Lydia pulled back she admired her handiwork. Not so much the words spread across his pale torso, but the way his legs shook as he tried to keep them spread and tucked away; the tremor in his jaw from the weight of the purse; the way pre-cum leaked from his dick slightly. She ran the back end of the eyeliner pencil up the underside of his dick.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I stick around when you have such a tiny, insignificant prick.” T-I-N-Y with an arrow pointing towards his dick.

Stiles was blushing, fighting the exciting shame but also the near constant feeling that he was falling. He felt that at any moment the drool covered purse was going to slip from his lips, his knees were going to give out, and he was going to fall right on top of Lydia. He opened his eyes when Lydia said his name, though he didn’t remember having shut them.

“Stiles, you’re mine,” and she leaned forward and her hair swished against her back as she wrote L-Y-D-I-A-’-S in the soft skin between his navel and his pubes. She stood up, allowing her breasts to graze his dick as she moved. She reached up, and even though she gave no command Stiles still anticipated her wants and let go of the purse so that she could take it. He stared at the soft teeth indents in the leather, saliva slick on the surface.

As if reading his mind, Lydia says, “I knew it would get wet. You did a very good job holding it. I’m relieved to know that I can take you on more trips and that you won’t drag my purse again.” Lydia smiled, yet it was less of a cruel mistress smile and more of a friendly teasing smile.

“You should get comfortable, Stiles.”

Stiles groaned in pain as he peeled his skin away from the wood, but was relieved to be sitting farther back on the bench. He smiled eagerly at Lydia as she climbed onto his lap. He sucked in a breath as she wiped some spit from his chin and kissed him gently. 

Lydia pulled her panties to the side, and smeared her wetness over her folds. She lifted her hips, gripped his dick, and soon she was lowering herself. 

“Oh god,” Stiles gasped. A manicured hand stifled any further comments, but he could see that Lydia was grinning at him. The wetness around his dick was warm and tight and he felt like he was coming undone by it, by her. 

Lydia rolled her hips in his lap and he whimpered under her hand. She choked back her own panting, trying to keep quiet even though she had yet to hear anyone else in the changing room. Even though she couldn’t slip her free hand down to her clit for fear of losing her balance, it hardly mattered. She was close, squeezing her muscles hard around his cock to change the sensation, to feel fuller. 

She fisted that free hand in his hair. He gave a few weak thrusts, but couldn’t lift himself far off the bench. His tongue lapped at her hand and she moaned.

“You’re such a good boy,” she whispered in his ear. “So deliciously slutty. You’re my sweet, little fuck-toy. Giving me everything I ask for. Ohhh… hmmn…” She pulled her hand away from his mouth, and he crumbled. He buried his head between her breasts.

“I’m gonna cum. Can I cum?” Stiles’ voice shook.

“Yeah. Yeah, cum for me, Stiles… ah,” she gasped. Happy to know that his cum was filling her pussy. She smiled as she stroked his hair, and she let one foot fall to the floor for balance so that she could rub her clit until she came. 

There was silence as they stood up and dressed, but it was a content sort of silence. Stiles chuckled, and Lydia looked over at him as she zippered her dress.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well,” Stiles said, grinning, “I won’t drag your purse again, but I still don’t know what to do with my future. Do you think you could solve that problem next time?”


End file.
